


Too Many Names, Even For A Gnome

by LycoRogue



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: 5e, Adventuring, Character Study, Monster Slaying, Other, building as I go, childhood sweetheart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 15:56:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14476122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LycoRogue/pseuds/LycoRogue
Summary: Character study shorts for my gnome Elymoxa. Each short showcases the multitude of names and nicknames she has accumulated in her still early life.** "Other" is only marked in the relationship category because I don't know what kind(s) will show up as I continue this study of Moxie ****Also, I don't know how terribly graphic my monster-slaying is, but it's there, hence the warning.**





	1. No Need to Daydream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a character study of my latest D&D character Elymoxa. Fifth edition added in the character build element of "Background" to better help people flesh out their characters (or maybe 4e did that? I skipped over 4e). One of the background elements is to pick the "bond" to their past life. I chose wishing a childhood sweetheart could have gone adventuring with them. So, I decided I needed to know a bit more of that sweetheart...

* * *

"Hey, Woodshooter, what are ya thinking about?"

"Huh?" Elymoxa Welbys Alver Teenybump sat up and rested back on her elbows. She turned to her childhood friend Bimbuckik Smurkot Riddlebum Sparklebrass. He had given her the nickname of Woodshooter nearly ten summers ago when he caught her practicing her marksmenship, and killing her boredom, by shooting the smallest branch on the farthest tree she could hit while standing on the roof of her family home. It was one of her favorite names.

While it was normal for a gnome to gather names and titles as they aged, she wasn't even twenty yet, barely out of childhood, and she already had over four dozen. Her parents each gave her one, her surviving grandfather and patriarc of their family added in Alver, and of course she had her father's clan name of Teenybump. As she aged she begin to get nicknames, and after defeating the Raging Beast that nearly ransacked the village last harvest season, she was getting paid in names nearly every day.

Still, Woodshooter was her favorite. Perhaps it was because Bimbuckik gave it to her.

He settled onto the roof beside her, swinging his legs over the ledge. They sat silently as he awaited her answer, and she simply took in the horizon.

Her parents owned one of the homes that lined the border of their small, hidden village nestled into the dense Nellasath Forest. There wasn't really much of an "out" that anyone could see, the trees outside the village were woven too tightly. However, right on the edge, just before the clearing that had made way for the village folded back into the canopy, the distant mountain peaks were visible as they cut into the sky. It wasn't much of the outside world, just four deep purple triangles, but it was enough for Elymoxa. It was proof that there was a "more" to the world. Proof of the existance of the distant lands the bards and merchants spoke of as they rested within the village.

"Mox?" Bimbuckik tried a nickname closer to her first given name, hoping it was enough to draw her from the spell of that far-off sky.

"Sorry, Bimbam, it seems that, purchance you have stumbled upon the vastness of ponderings that is my perplexing of my destiny."

"You were daydreaming." Bimbuckik simplified.

"I was daydreaming," Elymoxa confirmed.

"Why do you do that?"

"Daydream?"

"Well, that too, I guess, but try to over complicate what you say. You know you are terrible at it, right?" There was no harshness or maliciousness to his tone. He bumped his shoulder against Elymoxa's to try to make sure she understood that.

"I am a bard-"

"Aspiring," Bimbuckik interrupted.

"-and as a bard," Elymoxa continued without breaking her gaze upon the distant mountains, "I must speak in the most of elevated-like verbanage. It is to eloquate my grand tales."

Bimbuckik shook his head and laughed. "You want to sound smart so your stories will better travel and you'll become famous faster."

"You always over simplisticate things."

"Well, at least I can speak properly. Come on, Woodshooter. You're a marksman, not an orator. At least talk normally with me."

"I am."

Bimbuckik tilted his head and raised his eyebrows in a challenge.

"I have to practice," she relented.

"You have to learn what the words are and how to pronounce them first." He again chuckled and Elymoxa's cheeks began to burn.

He pushed himself up onto his feet, dusted his hands off on his tunic, and held a hand out for Elymoxa. "Come on then, you're looking quite flushed. Perhaps you've been in the sun too long."

Elymoxa's cheeks darkened as she gently touched them, her eyes averted from Bimbuckik.

"Uh, yes, too much sun. Good- good catch." She kept her head turned from him as she took Bimbuckik's hand. He pulled her to her feet and escorted her to the balcony banister they had used to climb onto the roof in the first place.

"Oh, and Moxie?"

"Yes?" She hopped down to the balcony beside Bimbuckik and looked up into his hazel eyes.

"You really shouldn't need to daydream. You have a beautiful life here. You're already a hero here. Try to remember to appreciate that. Try to be happy without having to look out there. Okay?"

"I'll try," she whispered, already planning her escape out of the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Less than 800 words!? I think this is one of the shortest scenes I've ever written.
> 
> Another element of the Backgrounds portion of character creation is to pick two personality traits. One of the ones I picked was "I misuse long words in order to sound smarter around people." It seemed too much fun to not pick. How'd I do? It's hard to misuse long words when you know what they actually mean. I'm not sure if I want to keep it for story-telling purposes.
> 
> Anyway, it may be a slow process, but expect more character studies like this one in the future. Thanks for reading!


	2. No Time for Playing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In an attempt to help improve my writing, my friend Ronoxym gave me a challenge in 2016. 
> 
> I tend to write very lengthy stories, and so his challenge was for me to write a new flash-fiction or vignette (1000 words or less) every week. This was one of those stories.

* * *

 

The arrow flew through the air, and quickly pierced its target, creating a muffled cry and a thud to the ground.  
  
"Three," Elymoxa counted as she nocked another arrow.  
  
"You shouldn't be taking such joy in this task," chided Lokmar, and shifted the weight of his shortsword on his hip. He was just shy of middle-age, but she was barely at adulthood, and he reminded her of that frequently.  
  
Elymoxa lined up her last shot as she talked. "Why not, Lock? I'm stuck here on sentry duty; bored out of my mind since I have to be a mouse out here. Something finally brings excitement-" She let the arrow fly, and another satisfying cry and thud echoed throughout the otherwise quiet glen. "And four. So why not take joy? Besides, can I not take pride in my skill?"  
  
"Skill," Lokmar huffed. "They didn't even see you. They were easy targets; no skill needed." He opened up the trap door in the floor of the ten-foot-by-ten-foot tree bunker they were tucked away in. Shifting his sword again, he began to climb down. "And you're far from a mouse," he hissed as his head disappeared below the trap door. "Can't keep quiet to save your life; stupid child."  
  
Elymoxa rushed over to the door and bent in half to look down at Lokmar. Her long, high ponytail flopped past her shoulder and hung like a heavy rope. "It takes great skill to take out all four without any of them noticing where I'm shooting from, Lockie! Besides, it shows even more skill that I managed to keep that sword at your hip!" Her grin stretched fully across her face before her tongue peeked through her thin lips.  
  
Lokmar grumbled further as he dropped the last few feet to the ground in a light thump. He crouched and inched forward, slowly pulling his sword from its sheath. There was no sound. The animals were probably still startled from the small invasion, and hadn't gone back to their daily activities.  
  
"I got 'em all, right?" Elymoxa yelled down from her perch.  
  
"Shut up, woman!" Lokmar growled. He quickly scanned the area again; making sure she didn't draw attention from unknown assailants.  
  
Elymoxa slung her bow onto her back, grabbed the sides of the ladder, and slid down the rails in a flash. Leaping off while still a few feet up, she tucked into a roll, and popped up beside Lokmar.  
  
"Why are you still so nervous? You know I got them all." She skipped over to the first body. When she arrived, she did a little twirl to again face Lokmar with a grin.  
  
"You're too cocky, girl," Lokmar walked up to the large mass tucked behind her that resembled a cross between a caveman and a bear. Its body was covered in black hair, except for the flattened, scarred, dark-brown face and large, sloping forehead. The tusks were stained with blood coughed up with the beast's last breaths. "Orcs aren't something you should be so lackadaisical about."  
  
Elymoxa pouted as she pulled her arrow from the orc's throat. "We were fine, and it gave me some excitement for about five minutes. You need to stop being so serious about everything. Crimeny, Lock, you're such an oddball."  
  
She pranced over to her second kill and pointed to the arrow firmly embedding in the orc's ear. She laughed, "Lockie, check this out! Right in the damn ear! I told you I had skills." She giggled and puffed out her tiny chest; crossing her arms in front of it.  
  
"Luck, not skill," Lokmar grumbled as he plucked her arrows from the other two orcs. "And show some, respect, child! Yes, these are our enemies, but they still had lives that you snuffed. Show some decorum."  
  
Elymoxa sat on the orc with the arrow out of his ear and pouted again. "So friggen serious. They wanted to kill us and the rest of the town. I stopped them before they could even find Glenhillville. Doesn't that deserve praise instead of condemnation?"  
  
"There are more dangerous things in the world than orcs, girl, and you're likely to bring them upon the town if you keep up your childish attitude." Lokmar knelt beside the four fallen foes, said a quick prayer, and then carved a tusk out of each mouth. He tossed them to Elymoxa. "Here. Take your damn trophies. I will show these soldiers proper respect and bury them."  
  
Elymoxa awkwardly juggled the tusks before dropping all but one. With a huff she scooped them back up and shoved them into a pouch bouncing off her hip. "Fine," she snapped, "bury our enemies. Show them more respect than you do your own kin! None of my songs say anything about honoring the dead and snubbing the heroes." She stomped towards the tree bunker and climbed back up.  
  
"Seriously, Mox, you do a disservice to everyone by talking like that." Lokmar yelled up the tree at her as he searched for where he had stashed his shovel earlier. "If you're going to rely so heavily on those damn songs of yours, at least remember the cautionary tales of The Corrupted. You'll become a hollowed out shell; a game piece in the Divine War between the gods. Heed me, child, and start to use your sense."  
  
Elymoxa kicked the trap door closed, and then reached through the window to grab a leaf. She folded it carefully, and then blew past the tube she created. A high pitched whistle squeaked from the leaf. She giggled, folded some more corners, and blew again. The whistle was now a more pleasant sound, and she played herself a one-note tune.  
  
"I'll never be so stupid as to let myself be corrupted," she mumbled. "I just want praise for a job well done. Is that too much to ask?"  
  
She lounged across the floor of the bunker, playing her leaf whistle in time with the rhythm of Lokmar digging the shallow graves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moxie's dialect is a lot different in this one because this was written years before I selected "misuses words" as a personality trait. I'm trying to decide on which speech pattern I prefer. It might be this one. The speaking personality trait might just be strictly "While role playing" for Moxie. What are your thoughts?
> 
> I also feel I should have edited this chapter to include a name specifically from Lokmar like I did with Bimbuckik... Calling her "Mox" is close enough to showcasing her many names, right?


	3. Survive the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a gift in 2017, I received "A Writer's Book of Days" by Judy Reeves. Along with advice, the book includes a different writing prompt for each day of the year (including Leap Day). This story came from the January 13th prompt: "When she looked up..."

* * *

When she looked up it was still there, despite her best efforts. The beast snorted hot air out of its large nostrils. Its solid black eyes had no way of indicating which direction they were looking, but she knew they were fixated down at her. Slobber hung to its loose chops; its lower fangs protruding from its long snout.   
  
Even with the nearly dozen arrows embedded in its hide, the creature stood tall on its hind legs. Its scaled tail swept up dust behind it. With loud pops, each segment of its four, long, lean, humanoid hands twitched as if independent of the ligaments linking them together. Three seconds later, it jerked its loosened and re-calibrated hands to the side; inch-long claws now shining in the vibrant moonlight.  
  
Elymoxa mentally pleaded for her body to move. She knew that if she didn't, the basilodyte would pull her apart like a freshly roasted fowl, and then tear her flesh with its gluttonous maw.  
  
_Move,_  she screamed in her head,  _you've dealt with worse. Just move._  
  
Still, there was something about those hands and those non-irised eyes. Something about how it didn't seem to feel pain. Instead, the more injuries Elymoxa inflicted the more it seemed to become enraged and determined to fight back with increased fervor. There was something about how human it looked as it walked on its back legs; keeping its balance by pressing its tail against the ground to prevent it from falling backwards.  
  
_The tail!_  Mox refused to let her eyes wander to it; refused to give the basilodyte the advantage of reading her thoughts. Still, she now knew where she needed to attack. She watched the beast's eyes with hope that it would give its strike away. Meanwhile, she knew she couldn't give it that advantage.  
  
She concentrated on her breathing and her heart rate; tried to slow and calm both. Her eyes drifted to the glistening claws, and the fangs pressing against its upper lip. The seconds ticked slowly, and she mentally pictured where her sword was beside her. Pictured the leathery scaling of the thick, pointed tail kicking up dirt and leaves from the worn walking trail. She had to be quick. She knew she had to be quick. She would have one shot.  
  
It happened just as she envisioned it. The basilodyte called out its attack with a spitting roar before lunging forward with all twenty claws. Just as fast, Mox rolled to her right. A basilodyte hand connected with her back, and another with her leg; digging eight grooves into her left side. Wincing in pain, Elymoxa continued her roll over her blade. She stayed focused enough to remember to grab at the hilt as she returned to her back. If the beast could refuse to die - refuse to react to wounds from ten arrows and three sword slashes at the chest - then she would do the same.  
  
Howling out in a cacophony of rage, pain, determination, and vitality, she pushed herself to her feet, and then further forward. Her sword arched over her shoulder, and she braced her striking wrist with her left hand. The blade connected but was forced to stop. The scales pinched the sides of her sword as the weapon stuck firm about three inches into the long appendage.  
  
For the first time, the basilodyte bellowed out a piercing, echoed wail, but with a deep guttural secondary growl. Its injured tail flicked; attempting to rip itself away from the bite of Elymoxa's previously useless sword. The beast whirled the top of its body around, again clawing at Mox.  
  
Two more claws caught her chest as she hopped back, following the tail. Using its momentum along with her own, she twisted her wrists, flexed, and pulled the sword up towards her left shoulder. With another cry of agony, the basilodyte's tail dislocated at the cut; thudding dully against the trodden path.  
  
The beast shifted its left foot to turn further around for its next strike, but without the tail keeping its balance, the creature toppled onto its back. Even with the sting of her gashes still fresh, Mox couldn't resist a snorted laugh at the intimidating monster now flopped onto its back, flailing around to try to right itself.  
  
She allotted herself too long to catch her breath, and the beast contorted its body so it was back on its feet, leaning forward on the lower set of hands to help balance and move. It wasn't nearly as fast as it was in its natural upright position, but those fangs and the upper set of clawed hands were still able to reach her.  
  
With a snap, the beast's teeth were clenched tight against her blade; keeping her dangerously close to the reach of its hands. As the claws swept at her, Mox's body reacted before her mind could catch up. Dropping onto her heels, she slid under the jaw and belly of the monster. Her hand slipped from her sword, leaving it behind, but blood dripped to the ground behind her. She must have at least sliced part of the creature's mouth in her lunge.  
  
Growling, the basilodyte shifted weight to its front hands so the lower ones were free to scratch under its belly for her. With the new arch of its back, Mox had more room to scurry closer to the back legs. She caught a few more grazes as the basilodyte shuffled to try to back up with her in order to keep her within arm's reach.  
  
Elymoxa began tucking and tumbling in place, focused solely on avoiding the razors attached to the ends of those scaled hands. A few times she managed to get a gut kick in, slowing her attacker down for half a second; just enough to prevent getting skewered.  
  
Frustrated, the beast made the fatal mistake of roaring at her. Her heart stopped. Her lungs refused to refill. Sweat freely poured down her face. Her fingers quaked. If she was still looking at the basilodyte, the combination of the imposing figure and penetrating roar would have done its job: literally freeze her with fear. Luckily, she was only focused on one part of her opponent, and so she could still hear the thunk of her sword falling from the creature's mouth. That sound was all she needed to help her ignore the paralyzing cry.  
  
Sliding back out from under the beast's belly, her right arm was snagged against one of the basilodyte's thumb claws. Her strength now exclusively in her still functioning left arm, she snatched her weapon from the dirt and thrust upwards into the monster's jaw, her chest pressing against the pommel for added force.  
  
The creature flailed its head, and again leaned on its lower hands so it could use the upper ones to yank out the sword. It tried to mournfully cry again, but its mouth was pinned shut. Ignoring the injury to her legs from the frantic clawing of the beast, Mox rolled onto her back and kicked up onto the cross-guard of her sword with both feet; shoving the blade the rest of the way into the basilodyte's skull.   
  
The monster didn't have time for one last painful wail as its limp body slumped to the side in a cascade; starting with the head, and the weight pulling the abdomen and legs down behind it in succession.  
  
Bracing her dead right arm against her chest, Elymoxa sprawled out in the bloody ground. She concentrated on her breathing and her heart rate; her eyes closed as she reminded herself that she was still alive. There was a town only a few more miles through the field, and with the sun rising soon, most of the more imposing creatures wouldn't be a bother. She could do this. She could survive until she received help. She had to after that fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no clue what monster I described, but to me it ended up being almost a humanoid evolution of a basilisk - the lizard; not the snake form - so I just created a sort of portmanteau of basilisk and troglodyte; mainly due to the lizardmen named troglodyte in D&D.
> 
> I'm not that great with fight scenes, so please leave comments if you have advice on where I can improve. Same goes for if I described a creature already in existence within the fantasy genre (I "come up" with already existing concepts surprisingly often). Thank you.


End file.
